


Panic Switch

by SubwayWolf



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Speculum, Consent Play, M/M, Medical Examination, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Stirrups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27362977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf
Summary: Dr. Augustin performs a routine medical examination on Dr. de Kuiper.
Relationships: Jean-Baptiste Augustin/Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	Panic Switch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deathtouch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathtouch/gifts).



> wow its been literally two years since i posted anything, sorry! i write a lot of OC and self-insert stuff (i'm not cringe, YOU'RE cringe.) and just haven't had the motivation for standard fanfic. also antidepressants fuck with my creativity sometimes. booooo prozac all my homies hate prozac.
> 
> you can probably tell i'm really out-of-it in the writing sense because this is... kinda all over the place. but i wanted to do something with two of my favorite overwatch characters, who i haven't had a chance to write about until now. 
> 
> WARNING: there are dubcon themes in here. and it's pure medfet. please avoid if that does not interest you. i did not use archive warnings, but that doesn't mean none apply. 
> 
> finally, this is a small gift to the greatest, most talented, spookiest person i know - someone who is pure royalty, and total perfection, who i am grateful to know and l_ve, [deathtouch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathtouch/pseuds/Deathtouch). halloween is her favorite time of year, plus i wanted to show her my undying appreciation for her friendship and good heart by writing a little bit of medfet. if you like this fic, definitely check out hers!

Determining fitness for Overwatch service is an extremely thorough process. 

Dr. Augustin sterilizes his hands with soap and water before drying them off on a nearby white towel. He approaches the dispenser of non-latex gloves mounted onto the wall and snaps one onto each hand, stretching out his fingers in them to assure their tautness. 

His patient today is undergoing routine examinations to determine if he is physically fit and healthy enough to be considered for Overwatch. His name is Dr. Siebren de Kupier, which was a name Baptiste is very familiar with. First as an enemy, only weeks ago – then, as a potential teammate. In no place to question Overwatch authority, Baptiste does not bother protesting the decision to vet this man. Besides, Baptiste has a past of his own. He truly is in no position to question it. 

At the moment, Siebren is strapped down to the medical bed. His waist, legs, and arms are all bound. And with good reason. 

“Hello again, Dr. de Kuiper,” Baptiste greets his patient cordially, making sure to show a flash of white teeth in his smile. “I will be performing some routine rectal examinations on you today, if that’s all right.”

There has been a staff of about half a dozen doctors all working as a collaborative unit on Dr. de Kuiper since his arrival at the Watchpoint. Baptiste is one of them, performing many routine exams over the past week or so. Every time past, he made a point to introduce himself politely, even though Siebren was usually clouded on some kind of tranquilizer. 

The typically glazed look in his eyes is not there, this time. Instead, there’s a fire. 

“No,” Dr. dr Kupier says calmly. “Do not _dare_ to touch me.” 

Baptiste squints at him. He pauses, momentarily. Then he continues. “I will be inserting a speculum in order to perform a visual, and potentially physical, exam. It should only take a minute or so.” 

“If you touch me, I will cut off your hands.”

There were plenty of psych evaluations to be had, especially this late in the process. Baptiste had faltering results on some of his own. Combat did horrors to the brain, and combat medics witnessed more horror than most, and were more likely to survive long enough to live with the trauma. Still, Baptiste made it through the vetting, with the agreement to attend therapy biweekly and take an antidepressant daily. Baptiste was not a psychologist, but even he could guess that this patient was not getting particularly high marks in his psych eval. 

Baptiste simply ignores him. He walks over to one of the many dispensers at the countertop in the corner. He places two fingers beneath one of the sensors, triggering a sizeable dollop of lubricant to drop down, jiggling firmly in place on the pads of his gloved fingers.

Behind him, Siebren sees the lubricant and knows what it means. He says something in Dutch which Baptiste generally recognizes to mean, _fuck you, asshole_ , essentially. 

Again, Baptiste ignores him and uses the top of his foot to scoot his rolling chair into the proper position right between Siebren’s spread legs. He takes a seat and scoots to position, then leaning to the side and locking the wheels. 

The patient’s tension is apparent, and Baptiste figures he should save the man some pain with a warning. “Now, please relax, Dr. de Kuiper. I will begin to prepare you for insertion.” 

Siebren warns, “If you put something in me, I will scream.”

Baptiste can not help but indulge him with a response. “I’m afraid these walls are well-soundproofed, my friend. Perks of being in a military-grade medical facility.” He lowers his voice to something like a whisper. “What I mean to say is, _nobody will hear you_.”

In his native tongue, Siebren curses at him again. 

Baptiste feels himself smiling as he speaks in his work voice again. “You will feel a little bit of pressure. And a chill.” 

He lifts his fingers to Siebren’s exposed hole. He spreads the lubricant generously around the rim and about a half-inch inside. It’s translucent, shining on the sensitive skin there. 

Siebren starts to thrash in protest. 

The good doctor is already strapped into place. Baptiste has done his own fair share of tying down thrashing, unwilling patients to gurneys, cots, and hospital beds. He is grateful today that there are security staff here at the Watchpoint who have strapped down Dr. de Kuiper while he was still sedated. He is a very fit man, especially for his age. The muscles in his arms strain as he fights the straps of his bindings. But he is quite compromised in his positioning, as his legs are up in stirrups, strapped in at the thighs and ankles; tight red leather digging ever slightly into white skin and muscle. The stirrups seriously limit his ability to escape. 

It does not stop him from trying, though. “Stop! Stop it, damn you – stop it! Don’t touch me, I don’t want it! I don’t want it! Please!” he begs, full of rage, as he strains against the straps.

Jean-Baptiste has heard worse. Wounded soldiers begging for death out of biblically massive pain, loss, and sorrow. Curses and threats too bloody to visualize. Blood-curdling screams during a mid-field emergency amputation. Phrases he dared not to think up the words to translate to English, lest he would have to relive them in his head again.

Baptiste has been unable to save those who begged to live. He has also stitched up and saved people in such tremendous physical and mental pain, they had begged to die. And he has shot in the back of the head those who he once knew as teammates. Some old, rude, European guy chickening out of a rectal exam literally meant nothing to him. It would take so much more to make him waver.

Unfazed, Baptiste continues preparing the hole with lubricant. He spreads it around with slow, gentle circles of the pads of his fingers, spreading and pushing it inside until It fully coats the wrinkly skin of the anus. It is the perfect amount of slick to aid in seamless tool insertion.

From a steel tray containing an array of medical instruments, Baptiste selects a silver anal speculum. It is a tool used for both diagnosis and treatment procedures. Today, Jean-Baptiste will be using it as part of his very thorough examination. 

The handles are spread by default, and closing them together with a tight grip causes the silver speculum arms to spread. This particular device even has a built-in light source at the base which can be activated remotely. Jean also has a light source fixed to his glasses, but this one will come in handy, too. 

Baptiste gives the handles of the speculum a couple of squeezes for good measure. The springs are taut and it takes a measure of strength to open the arms fully. They do spread, a considerable distance. The metal feels cold, even through the thin waxy layer of nitrile gloves. 

“I will now insert the speculum and use it to spread your anus so I can perform my examination.” Baptiste lifts the speculum into position, arms closed for insertion.

“Don’t _fucking_ touch me again!” 

He inserts the tool. The metal arms press into the slick hole and disappear, slipping inside, swallowed by the tight muscles of the anus. It goes generally unnoticed, so Baptiste does his best to keep it smooth. “It’s inside, Doctor. You’re doing great.”

“Get it out of me! Please, stop!” He raises his voice and calls out desperately, “Please, someone help me! I don’t want this! Help!”

His ethics catch up to him. Baptiste leans over and, with his free hand, reaches for the data pad magnetically clipped to the foot of the bed. The consent forms are all there. He double-checks, then triple-checks. All while this patient is thrashing before him.

This is not the time to start feeling sorry for the man. He does not deserve as much, anyway. But the medical professional in Baptiste’s heart tells him to keep going despite this pushback. It is his job, after all. He replaces the data pad onto its magnetic clip and returns to his position.

“Now, I’m going to open the arms of the speculum. There is a numbing agent in the lubricant solution I applied, but you will feel some slight pain at first.” Baptiste positions his hand on the handle now. “Breathe with me. In three, two, one…” 

Clamping the handles together causes the arms to part the skin and first half-inch of the anal cavity at its entrance. His skin and muscle stretch around it, and even with the aid of the numbing agent, the suddenness of the clamp must burn quite a bit. He uses the locking device and sets the speculum in place. It is putting him perfectly on display for his exam. 

Siebren undoubtedly feels exposed, feels that slight present burn, feels that continued fear; he thrashes, protesting, practically crying out, “Ahh, no! Get it out! Doctor, please, take it out of me, _no no no please—_ ”

The standard rectal examination begins. With his thumb, Baptiste turns on the light built into the base of the speculum. It alights and the inside of the hole goes from pitch black to typical red. The light reflects off of the metal in a jarring way, and Baptiste squints his eyes a little as he lifts a finger to his glasses and powers on the light there as well. As he leans forward, he is able to see even deeper inside. He checks, as routine, for any expected ailments, like polyps, fissures, abscesses, or any signs of cancer. 

Siebren’s tense muscles in his abdomen also tighten the muscles of his rectal wall. The strain causes his rim to tighten. The skin is stretched like a thin ring, pulled open by the metal arms. It twitches inward, tight and strained, fluttering closed as his internal muscles strained and constricted. The speculum forces the hole to gape open despite his body’s efforts to close up. 

“Please do not tighten your body around the speculum, Dr. de Kuiper,” Baptiste half-heartedly warns him through a sigh. “The instrument is at its widest setting. I would hate to see you bleed.” 

The threat of that possibility must have startled him a little, because Siebren stops clenching his hole shut. It is confirmed, then, that he is indeed listening; refusing to react up until this point, but why? There was always the chance that his struggle was an act, a game – a fetish, even. 

Out of curiosity, Baptiste pauses his examination. He lifts his eyes and indulges in the chance to casually, if not clinically, glance at the rest of Dr. de Kuiper’s genitalia. It definitely does not take a doctor to recognize blatant arousal. It could be an autonomous reaction to being stimulated, but perhaps not. Baptiste raises an eyebrow and goes back to his scheduled examination. 

“I see a little bit of swelling, Doctor. I am going to insert one finger as a gauge. You will feel some pressure. In three, two, one…” 

He inserts one outstretched finger into the agape hole. Leaning forward helps his head light illuminate the darkness. The open cavity swallows his finger easily, and he lays it flat down into the corded muscle and gently pressed down. The heat, the tension of the internal muscles warmed his finger instantly. The nitrile gloves faintly squealed as he pushed inward, supple from the high moisture content inside the cavity.

Siebren protests, “Get it out of me! Get it out!!” but his arousal grows. That could also explain the mild swelling, indicative of an increase in blood flow. It is nothing to be concerned about; beyond face value, anyway.

Baptiste removes his finger, but not because he was told to. He lifts the clean-gloved hand to his eye glasses and powers off the head light there. He doesn’t remove the speculum just yet. It stays latched in place, metal arms fixed apart, alit red from the fixture light. 

“The examination is all done. That wasn’t so difficult, now, was it?” Baptiste is glad it’s nearly over. He offers him a smile. “I’ll remove the speculum and you’ll be on your way. How does that sound?”

Siebren does not respond. He is suddenly quiet, and perfectly still.

Baptiste wonders, distantly, if he’s about to be spit on. But when he sits up straight in his stool and looks Dr. de Kuiper in the eyes, he doesn’t see ire. He sees satisfaction.


End file.
